Detention
by americansecrets
Summary: "Opposites attract, then they repel." But I'm not so sure about that.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything. I'm just fooling around. Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight and its characters.**

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**1.**

Green, electric eyes. Overgrown copper strands obstructing his view. Sharp, angular jaw; masculine. Boyish grin as he takes me in; his new companion.

I don't know why, but I flush rose and he chuckles with glinting greens. "So, what'd you do?" His voice is knowing, and I feel shy. "I drew on the wall behind the cafeteria," I say while avoiding his curious gaze.

He laughs, shakes his head of bronze, and doesn't say another word to me for the rest of the day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything. I'm just fooling around. Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight and its characters.**

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**2.**

"Hey, whatcha scribbling away for?" I feel his breath on my ear as his velvety voice sends my heart into a pandemic. He furrows his brows as he analyzes my multiple sketches from the past hour. "You've been drawing a lot, haven't you?" His soft murmur brings back hazy and unwanted memories, and all of a sudden I feel claustrophobic.

I shrink under his scrutiny as his vivid eyes search and dig through mine. I don't know what he's looking for and I can't help but get lost in the shades of emerald.

A quiet, "What happened to you?" makes me drop my gaze and shift uncomfortably as I snap my sketchbook shut. I feel his forefinger and thumb tipping my chin up and I close my eyes, wishing he would stop being so inquisitive.

We've been detention buddies for a week, and he's told me how lonely it is, when you're not supposed to speak to anyone, not even teachers. You can't attend class, but you still have to come to school at 8a.m. to serve detention till 3p.m.. Well, for him, at least. Two more weeks and my punishment would end - unless I "vandalize" school property again - but for him... He doesn't know.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything. I'm just fooling around. Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight and its characters.**

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**3.**

I never thought I'd come back here. But after Charlie's death, how could I not want to return to my childhood home? Things around here were pretty much the same, from what I remembered as a kid. The lavender walls in my room, the pristine white of the kitchen tiles and countertops, and of course — the flat screen in the living room that Charlie and I used to watch movies on every Friday night.

He never really got over Renee's departure, and truthfully, neither did I. A six-year-old, thinking that her mommy didn't want her anymore because she didn't win the spelling bee. Thinking that her daddy wanted to abandon her too. We were never able to contact her, and after waiting for a year, we finally left Seattle behind to create our own beginning, just father and daughter.

Until November 27, 2012.

He was on duty. Someone shot him because he tried to _butt in _when a group of guys were cornering a college girl.

Edward doesn't know anything. He hasn't seen me since we were just children. I don't even know if he remembers me. If he remembers how we used to run around in his parents' back yard, trying to get me to kiss him as a dare.

I am also now under the foster care of Alice Cullen, Dr Carlisle Cullen's younger sister. Who is also Edward's adoptive aunt. But Edward doesn't know.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything. I'm just fooling around. Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight and its characters.**

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**4.**

"You seem down today," is the first thing he says when he sees me. As I get myself settled into the seat beside him, he scrutinizes me and as per usual, I flush. "Hey pretty girl. You never look at me. What's wrong?" he says as he brushes a few strands of flyaways from my face.

I don't know if I should tell him what he doesn't know. Am I lying if I hide it from him?

I throw him a hesitant smile and shake my head minutely as a slight frown takes shape on his perfect features.

_I'm lonely_, is what I want to tell him.

_I'm scared_, is what's at the base of my throat.

_Thank you for being so nice_, is what goes through my mind.

But I say nothing as I start to draw another one of the monsters in my head.


End file.
